This is going to be very, very long. The whole thing is what, five? Six pages? I'll only put the first page here, tell me what you think.
The sun rose upon September the eighth as leaves of the great elms, oaks, and birches of Oakvine Wood swayed in a light southern wind. Within that great forest, on its far northern border, there rests a town of twelve hundred residents called Vularnen. A quiet, inoffensive town, Vularnen became a haven for the war-weary and long-suffering. It was a natural town, with gardens in plenty and self sufficient, independently minded people. The town’s reverence for nature extended to their infrastructure and architecture, as well. Its roads traveled with the hills and the outer walls bordered the largely unobstructed woods.
One resident of this town was named Galvin, a lizard who hailed from the South East. Like many of his fellow townspeople, Galvin was a refugee, seeking sanctuary from the regular rebellions, power vacuums, and general wanton destruction of his homeland. When the old lizard, starving, battered, and penniless, happened upon the refugee community, both the town and its local lord, Alakir Swartkil, a former corsair, both of which seemed to have attained a supernatural level of serenity and calm, welcomed him warmly, and before long numbered him amongst their friends and townsfolk.
The past behind him, Galvin found lasting employment as an apple farmer. A simple life he lived, with few possessions to speak of. Nevertheless, he was happy. Many of his townspeople he could say he loved, and his existence was a full one to say the least. He performed in Vularnen’s local band, he acted in its theatre, and he taught at its school. He felt content in doing such menial tasks as picking apples from his orchard, for he now saw the entire world as beautiful and sacred.
After he filled a basket with the fruit, he proceeded to the granary. His home was adjacent to the town’s granary, so he had not much walking to do during the harvest season. As he passed by the great doors that protected his settlement, Galvin spotted the handmaiden to Lord Swartkil’s wife, the vixen Mya Losthos, outside, as the gate was open. Although the old lizard held a general disdain for her and her aloof mannerisms, he still felt obligated to greet her when they met, being of the same town and called out to her. The white furred fox wasengrossed in a conversation with a creature outside of Galvin’s view, and paid him no heed. But a moment later, Myaseemingly struck the creature to which she spoke, who then called out for help. The lizard dropped his basket of apples and jolted to the scene of the violence. He then saw that a shrew was the victim of the vixen’s temper. “What is the meaning of ]Mya stared at him with her impassive, grey eyes, apparently ripping into his soul and psyche, reading his mind and judging his willpower and physical strength. Eventually, her expression softened, she smiled, and placed a hand on the easterner’s shoulder. “You misunderstand, my friend, for I came to aid this hapless creature. The true culprit disappeared into the woods,” she explained. The victim then nodded, which satisfied Galvin.
“Then there is a danger to our town and our people. I must tell Lord Alakir.” But before he could return to collect his basket, Mya’s grip on his shoulder grew painfully tight. She then grabbed hold of the older creature’s green tunic, lifted a hand hidden by her black cloak, and beat him to unconsciousness. Her shrew companion covered the farmer’s mouth so that none would hear his cries.
Mya stopped when the lizard lost a sufficient amount of blood. She assisted her shrew companion back onto his feet, and together they threw Galvin’s unconscious form into the woods. “That pathetic mewling nearly sounded real. I think you practiced for far too long, Admiral.” the vixen commented. The shrew dusted off his grey coat and scowled. “I’m not here to make fun, fox. Just tell me when I can raze this stronghold of the enemy to the ground and cast its unholy people into hell.”
